Smelling Flowers
by MadnessJones
Summary: Grubber from the Gangreen Gang has been given a rare opportunity: a chance to fix his disfigurement and look like a normal person. As the transformation takes effect however he finds that the rewards and the challenges involved will complicate his life in ways he never anticipated.
1. Day 1

_Author's Notes: After 83 stories on this site I'm finally going to try something I've never done for a fanfic before: first person POV narrative! I've never done it before because the format is limiting, but for this particular story I wanted something that felt more personal and intimate. I know doing another Grubber story after finishing one off might seem weird, but I feel like there's another story I can tell with this character, and to be honest I just really like how the Gangreen Gang play off each other. "Smelling Flowers" is a journal format story, so some chapters might be short while others are long, just like a real journal. Hopefully you guys enjoy this new story. I have a feeling I'll enjoy writing it :)_

* * *

Day 1

Here I stand, once again backed against a wall facing a camera ready to take my picture. I'm used to this sort of thing. Being a member of the Gangreen Gang, I am very well acquainted with having my mugshot taken by the Townsville police department. This time however the camera is not here to condemn me, but rather to mark my progress for a clinical trial that will either do absolutely nothing or else change my life forever. And to think, it all started with a tornado and a stroke of chance.

My name is Grubber J. Gribberish, and this is my written report for Nu U Medical Labs.

It all started on a stormy day in the city dump, where my cohorts and I reside. You've probably heard of us. In Townsville my friends and I are affectionately known as the Gangreen Gang. We are a motley bunch of teenagers with nothing better to do than kill time, kill bugs, and terrorize small children when the weather permits. The only thing uniting us is our less than ideal circumstances and our putrid green skin. I only mention this because I'm still surprised the lab chose me for this experiment. I am, after all, a wanted felon. Oh well, I suppose the white coats took one look at my face and decided they wanted a challenge.

On this particular day we weren't really doing anything important. It was nasty weather outside and the only one that seemed excited at the prospect was Big Billy. He wanted to run around in the rain and splash around the puddles like a jackanape. Ace, our leader, said no. That made Billy sad, and we _all_ got to hear about it.

You see, Big Billy, despite being the largest and strongest member of our gang, is actually rather childlike in his demeanor. He's highly emotional and easily offended, so when Ace told him he wouldn't be allowed to go outside and play in the rain Billy started sobbing uncontrollably, which grated on the ears of everyone else involved.

Turns out that wasn't the only waterworks we were in for. The wind was blowing hard, and there was a tornado warning for Townsville. It was a warning we could do nothing about, so we ignored it. That would prove to be a mistake on our part, as while Billy was crying the tornado made its way to the dump.

I still remember the sound. It sounded like a missile was roaring through the air, and since we live in the Powerpuff capital of the world a few of us wondered if that was what was happening. It wasn't a missile however, obviously.

We felt the wind through the worm eaten holes in our shack before we saw anything. We technically don't have glass windows, but rather large holes where windows should be, so you can imagine what happened next.

The tornado came through and tore the roof of the shack right off! We all started blowing away, but then Ace grabbed onto Arturo, Snake grabbed onto Ace, I grabbed onto Snake, and Big Billy grabbed onto all of us and anchored us to the ground. Fortunately Billy was heavy enough to not blow away.

It took only a moment for the tornado to pass, but the damage it left behind was staggering. Our shack, which admittedly was poorly constructed, was completely destroyed. There was nothing left but splinters, and for a moment or two all we could do was stare at the empty space where our home used to be. Finally however, the silence was broken by our dear leader.

"Well...you guys think the arcade's still standin'?"

Yes, I'm dead serious. Instead of trying to rebuild our shack, the five of us went to the arcade. To be fair, none of us wanted to think about the future after instantly losing everything. We wanted our minds to be soothed by glittering lights and the deafening noises of machines and victory music. I got the third highest score in the city on Bloody Car Chase II, and we stole three pizzas from the kitchen.

We were fine for a while, but then that night we realized we had nowhere to go. We did what most people do in this situation, and found a discreet place in the park to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, with each of us covered in grass stains and aching in every muscle, Ace decided that we should try to rebuild our shack.

"But how are we sssupossed to do that?" Snake asked, "We don't have any ssssupliesss."

This pessimistic question was met with an uppercut to the nose from Ace. He does that a lot, punches Snake when Snake busts his chops. Hm, that actually sounds ironic. Metaphorical busted chops and literal busted chops. Wait, where was I? Oh, right. The shack.

"We'll get what we need," Ace declared, "We just need money to buy the stuff."

"Uh, but boss," Billy chimed in, "How do we get money?"

"We gonna sssteal it?" Snake asked almost eagerly.

"Maybe," Ace shrugged, "We'll figure somethin' out."

For most of the day we didn't actually "figure" anything out. We hung around the park until we saw some kids playing in the sandbox, and then we harassed the whiny little tykes because we were bored. What? You expect me to feel bad about that? Have you seen kids today? They're fat, spoiled, and have parents that indulge their every whim. My comrades and I slept in the park the previous night. Those kids will go home to fluffy blankets and warm bedrooms. The least they deserve to balance out the universe is a few wedgies and some sand in their faces.

During this bout of impish fun Snake held a kid upside down and some loose change fell out of his pockets. At first nobody noticed, but after a minute Snake looked down at the coins and put two and two together. Of course the answer he came up with was five, but he tried.

"Hey Accce!" Snake shouted, "Thiss kid dropped moneys! Can we fix the shack with thisss?"

Ace counted out the money, and it was 84 cents.

"Nah, I don't think so, but it's a good start," Ace nodded approvingly before pocketing the stolen change.

Of course we knew that there weren't enough wimpy brats on the playground to get us the money we needed, but that didn't stop us from shaking down every kid we came across that day. I will admit it was especially easy for me to rob those brats, since my hideous face alone is enough to scare kids into doing what I want.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention this part! Arturo and I got bored with merely shaking the kids down after a while, so we decided to reenact that scene from 'A Bug's Life' with the grasshoppers. It was hilarious! We found these little girls playing by a tree, and Arturo quietly took a jump rope off the ground and tied it to my waist. When we got to the girls, Arturo held the jump rope like a harness leash, and I started snarling and drooling like a rabid dog and hopping up and down like Thumper from the movie. The girls screamed so loud I'm surprised they didn't break something! Pfft! It was especially funny because Arturo was shouting "Help! I'm losing my grip on the monster!" Pfft!

Now that I write it out, I realize none of this was actually pertinent to the report. I apologize. The point is later that day we came across a sign on a lamp post with your contact information on it. The sign read: _Suffering from Verida Pigmaplasia? Need help? Sign up for a new drug trial at Nu U Medical Labs. We pay $$_.

"Huh, well dat's interestin'," Ace commented rather blandly, "Hey, do yous guys think we can fake dis illness long enough to get the trial money?"

I then explained to Ace that we don't have to fake the illness, since verida pigmaplasia is the disorder that causes our green skin and bodily disfigurement. I'm frankly surprised he didn't already know that.

"So, if we all sign up to take their new drug, then we'd all get paid?" Ace reasoned, "Looks like we just figured out how to rebuild our house."

"But Accce, what if there are sssside effectsss?" Snake asked nervously, "What if sssomething important fallsss off or rotss or sssomething?"

This objection was of course met with a punch to the face. You'll notice this is a running theme in their interactions.

Of course you illustrious scientists know what happened next. Since you only needed one subject and there were five of us, we had to decide as a group which one of us would undergo the dangerous experimental testing. Since we are young men of class and sophistication, we convened a panel and after much discussion we came to the most logical conclusion for who should be your new test subject.

"_Rock paper scissors_!"

Okay, maybe it wasn't _that_ much of a refined discussion. We probably played ten rounds to be honest. Most of us kept picking rock. I picked paper when I realized everyone else was picking rock, but then they all picked scissors! Who picks scissors when they're anticipating rock?!

Well, regardless of the improbability of it all, I was deemed the loser and therefore am now in your _hopefully_ capable hands. I'm honestly surprised you would accept me into your trial given the rate of deterioration of my body and skeletal structure. I don't actually have any confidence that you'll be able to cure me. Verida pigmaplasia is a rare genetic condition that Townsville scientists have spent many years studying, and I doubt that your snake oil will succeed where others have failed.

I understand, probably more than the rest of my gang, that we have no future. Verida pigmaplasia does more than merely make skin green. It warps the bones, it causes autoimmune and digestive problems, and it often leads to premature death. Why should I or the rest of my gang try to be anything other than what we are when this is the height of what our lives can be?

Oh well. Such is life, I suppose. I have had my 'before' picture taken today, and by this time next month I hope the rate of deterioration has slowed down, but I doubt it will. Thank you for this opportunity nonetheless. Even if I am not cured at least the money I am being paid will repair our shack.

Grubber J. Gribberish


	2. Day 2

Day 2

I know I'm not supposed to write an entry in this journal today, but I don't care. This isn't so much a progress report as it is a formal complaint. I simply _must_ protest my current treatment and the treatment of my gang!

Now that I know these progress reports are being read by the corporate office in Citysville I feel like I can speak freely, and frankly Dr. Langston and Dr. Phillips are total hacks. Now don't get me wrong, I understand the need for a certain amount of control in an experiment, but this...it's unacceptable!

You see good sir or madam, I have never participated in a clinical trial before, so I didn't quite know what to expect. When I arrived here yesterday with my gang they said they only wanted to test the drug on one person. We understood, and I volunteered to be the monkey in this little science experiment. I understand Nu U Labs doesn't have enough of the drug for the trial, that I understand, but it is the heartlessness and aloof capricious nature of your staff that infuriates me! Allow me to explain.

After I presented myself for study I was greeted by a middle aged man named Dr. Langston, and he took me into a small room that reminded me of a doctor's office, only with a two way mirror. I recognized it as such because police interrogation rooms frequently employ two way mirrors for perp identification and observation. It is rather funny when I'm in a police lineup though, because none of the other inmates ever look like me. It's like they don't even try! Pfft!

Anyway, while we were in the examination room Dr. Langston measured my tongue, examined my eyes, measured the length of my arms and legs, took an X-Ray of my spine, had me cough (forgot I could do that), and gave me a prostate exam that I probably made more awkward than necessary by shifting my bulging eyes his way and making lip smacking noises. So overall a pleasant experience.

After the exam was over and logged into his records I was escorted to the office of Dr. Phillips, a blonde female scientist with red lips and a perfume that smelled as putrid as a fresh bouquet of roses. She would be pretty, if she didn't try so hard to look perfect. For some reason she's doing double duty as both a chemical researcher and a psychologist for their trial patients. It's too bad, because I would have preferred to talk to Dr. Langston. I think it's easier to talk to someone who was forced to handle your junk and measure your tongue. At least then you know they're uncomfortable too.

Sorry to say my first counseling session with Dr. Phillips didn't go so well. Since you're probably unfamiliar with me and can't immediately figure out why, here's a rundown for you.

"Hello, you must be Grubber," Dr. Phillips said in a voice that sounded like a dopey kindergarten teacher, "I'm so happy you've agreed to help us test our new potential cure for verida pigmaplasia. I'm Dr. Irene Phillips. Now first of all, tell me how you feel about your condition. What challenges do you face?"

"Pfft pfft pbt pfft pffrtt pfffft."

Yes, you are reading that transcription correctly. Due to the progression of my illness I speak in a language I invented using raspberries. I can write my thoughts out quite well, so my cognitive reasoning hasn't been affected by the illness as of this date, though trying to convince Dr. Phillips of that fact was rather difficult.

"Subject shows signs of linguistic impairment and possibly mental retardation," Dr. Phillips spoke into her smartphone, indicating she was recording her statement, "According to Dr. Langston's supplemental report subject is also immature yet shows at least a rudimentary awareness of his surroundings."

"Pfft!" I tried to get her attention, but of course she wasn't listening.

Can you believe the gall? To call me a simpering moron while I'm sitting across the room from her! I wasn't even restrained, and if I wasn't in desperate need of cash she would have paid the price for such carelessness.

As bad as that experience was however, it is not why I am writing this complaint to you, Nu U Medical Labs Corporate. I am writing to discuss my living arrangements, more specifically the size of my room and its lack of occupants.

Now don't get me wrong. When I was shown to my room I was impressed at first. I'm used to sleeping on a worn bean bag chair in a house the size of a kiddie pool, so it doesn't take much to make me comfortable. When I saw that I was to stay in a room with an actual full size bed, a nightstand, a computer desk with computer and office chair, and a bookshelf filled with books...it was overwhelming and beautiful. That's the problem however.

You see, my gang and I are homeless right now. My friends have nowhere to sleep, and last night I tried to let them inside so they could share my room. Sure, it would be a tight fit, but if I slept under the bed, Billy slept on the floor, Arturo slept in the nightstand drawer, Snake slept in the chair, and Ace slept in the bed we all could've fit. We would've even been quiet!

That isn't what happened however. Dr. Langston and Dr. Phillips saw me trying to let my friends inside and told me they weren't allowed in and that the lab was private property. I tried to explain that my friends needed a place to stay, but of course they don't understand my language so I got nowhere. Ace tried to argue with them, using words I won't repeat for the sake of professionalism, but that just made Dr. Phillips threaten to call the police on them. Dejected, my friends left the premises.

Now I know you can only afford to treat one person. I know that. I'm trying to be reasonable despite every bone in my body saying trash the place and return to the gang. I'm not asking for much. Just permission for my friends to stay in the room with me. We're used to sleeping in a small space. We'll make due.

I ask not only for their sake, but for the sake of my own sanity as well. I haven't slept alone since I was little. I joined the gang when I was 10 years old, and we've never been apart. Every other person I've ever known has abandoned me. My parents, my foster parents, my elementary school teachers, the state...but not the gang. They've stuck by my side, and not in that mushy love conquers all kind of way. More in a brothers in arms kind of way.

I know it's sappy, but I barely slept last night because I worried over them and felt terribly alone. I miss Big Billy snoring, Arturo kicking the wall in his sleep, Snake's soft hissing, and Ace snapping at us to get off our lazy butts in the morning. I guess he's kind of like our alarm clock. Pfft!

So, to summarize: I'm not a neanderthal so don't believe the hype, I am dissatisfied with my rooming arrangements, and I want my gang to allowed off the streets for the duration of this clinical trial. I humbly await your response...and do hurry.

Grubber J. Gribberish


	3. Day 3 - Day 10

_Author's Notes: I know it's been a while, but I'm finally posting the next chapter of "Smelling Flowers". I would like to thank **Burninglilly** for reminding of this fic. This chapter is a little different, since it shows the progression of time in a succinct way. Not every chapter will be like this moving forward, but there may be a few more. Anyway, thank you to everyone who is reading. I'm glad I can get back to this story :)_

* * *

Day 3

Well, Dr. Langston and Dr. Phillips denied my written request for my friends to stay with me, but I have decided to not get angry at them. I have instead decided to move on and find joy in my life. Of course by _joy_ I mean pulling juvenile pranks on my benefactors. Pfft!

Today I replaced Dr. Langston's pencils with drinking straws, and then glued the pencils onto Dr. Phillip's chair with the pointy ends facing up. I'm not sure if she sat on them, but judging from the angered screams I'd like to imagine so. I also glued my door shut so they couldn't check on me. I grabbed some snacks from the cafeteria first so I wouldn't get hungry. It took them over an hour to get the door open, and I pretended to be asleep so they couldn't yell at me. Oh, it was such fun!

As for my medical progress, I'm sure it's too soon to tell. I still doubt anything will come of this, but at least I'll have more fun here than I would in jail or on a park bench. Crap, I really wish the gang could live here too.

Grubber J. Gribberish

* * *

Day 4

Not much to write today. Probably shouldn't write every day and waste the paper, but I'm bored.

No side effects are being felt at the moment. I take one of the pills every morning and in the afternoon the doctors examine me and talk to me about my progress. Dr. Phillips still talks to me like I'm a toddler, but I suppose I can learn to get used to it. The cafeteria serves a good breakfast. Sausage _and_ pancakes. My normal breakfast is a bag of chips and a soda, so this is probably more healthy...maybe.

* * *

Day 5

The vending machine ran out of soda. I've been in a bad mood all day. Why does Dr. Phillips act like I can't hear her when she talks about me!? I'm sitting. Right. There! My mouth feels so dry and I just want a soda! Why do they only serve coffee and water in the cafeteria? Oh god...is this a side effect? Maybe the pills are making my mouth dry, or making me moody. I don't know. I just know I need something to drink _now_!

Maybe I should try to talk normally around Dr. Phillips. It hurts my spine to stand that straight, but unfortunately that's what it takes to get my tongue all the way in my mouth. I just need her to know that I can understand her, that I'm not dumb, and that I really need something to drink.

Grubber J. Gribberish

* * *

Day 6

I couldn't do it. I tried to stand up straight yesterday and I couldn't do it. It always hurts, but yesterday it was impossible. My spine is locked up. I'm worried I might be getting worse instead of better. What if the medicine is expediting my condition rather than curing it? What did I let them _do_ to me?

Aside from the fear of rapidly aging and dying, I've also been eating more today. A lot more. I ate five bags of chips, two breakfast plates, two bologna sandwiches from the cafeteria, drank two cups of water even though I hate water, and ate a block of cheese slices. The entire block! I feel like I'm turning into Big Billy!

Speaking of which, the gang hasn't come by to visit me in days. They aren't allowed to stay, but they are allowed to come over as long as they don't give me anything to eat or drink that isn't pre-approved. I don't know why that's a rule. Maybe the doctors are afraid the gang will sneak me beer or something. I don't know. What I do know is that I miss them, and I'm eating everything that isn't locked away.

I'm beginning to dislike this place. Oh don't get me wrong, I like my room, but everything else is just tedium. I hate the pills, I hate the doctors, I hate the side effects of the medicine, and I hate Dr. Phillip's stinky perfume. Seriously, I lived in garbage for five years and bathed zero times in that duration, and she still smells worse. I wish I could go outside and distract myself from this existential nightmare. Oh well, at least the research will benefit others with this condition, and the money will benefit my friends.

Grubber J. Gribberish

* * *

Day 7

For once I actually have something to report besides my own malaise. This afternoon I went in to see Dr. Langston for my physical, and I discovered why my back has been in such terrible pain.

When I was X-Rayed Dr. Langston asked if I would like to see the results along with him, and I enthusiastically nodded yes. Dr. Langston isn't as annoying as Dr. Phillips, though to be fair he also isn't as nice to look at. Just as an aside, his head is mostly bald but he has poofy grey hair on the sides of his head. It makes him look like a retired clown.

The moment of the X-Ray will probably live in my memory forever. It was the first time since this fiasco started that I truly began to feel something other than boredom and hunger. I suppose the appropriate word for this feeling would be...cautious optimism. Not exactly hope, but close to it.

"Now Mr. Gribberish, let's take a look at that pretty picture of your spine," Dr. Langston had said, his mannerisms friendly enough as he walked over with the results, "Do you see these two vertebrae near the base of your neck? Well, these were fused together when you came in, but now they have separated. Judging from your posture, I would say the rest of your fused vertebrae are likewise attempting to defuse themselves from each other. This is very promising. The drug is likely working as a sort of bone resetter for you, and if this result can be replicated we'll know how to deal with your treatment moving forward."

I must admit I was rather stunned. The pain I was experiencing was actually...results? I was actually getting better? I found it difficult to believe, but the evidence was right there. If these people are charlatans, then they are very good at their deception. That X-Ray was more than I ever hoped for.

For the second time since coming to this laboratory I was placed in front of a height chart and my picture was taken. One week of progress, and I was already a quarter of an inch taller! Perhaps there is hope for me yet. Perhaps someday...there might be hope for the rest of my gang. Wouldn't that be something? We wouldn't recognize each other if we stopped being green, and yet, longer healthier lives might just be worth it.

Grubber J. Gribberish

* * *

Day 10

I know I haven't written in my journal for a few days, but honestly all I want to do anymore is sleep and eat. I have never felt so old or lazy, and thus I haven't managed to do very much.

For the past few days I have managed to occupy my time by learning how to use the computer in my room. As it turns out this thing has games on it. Not great games mind you. Mostly solitaire and hearts, but at least there's something for me to do besides stare at the ceiling all day.

The reason I am writing today however is not because I have discovered the _riveting_ diversion of virtual playing cards. No, today I am writing because for the first time in a week and a half I had a visitor!

I have missed my gang so much, and I wondered if they missed me as well. I doubted they would drop by. That's just not how things are run in our hood. If one of us goes missing or is presumed dead we don't go looking for them. It likely means danger, and the law of the street is self preservation. If I die then their solemn duty is to go on without me, and I must in turn return that favor should I have a means to escape that they lack. It's how we keep ourselves alive.

So imagine my surprise when around noon Dr. Phillips came into my room (without my permission, again) to tell me the good news.

"Hello, Grubber," Dr. Phillips greeted me in a syrupy tone that even now grates on my nerves, "You have a visitor, honey. Do you feel well enough to come out and see him?"

"Pfft pbt," I would translate that, but I might get in trouble.

Outwardly I was just casually following Dr. Phillips to see my visitor, but inside I was excited to the point of bursting. It had been so long since I had seen the gang! Then the wording she used finally hit me. 'Him'. As in singular, one, not four. Only one member of the gang cared enough to show up. Oh god, I hope it wasn't Billy. He might break something and we'd get a fine that would mitigate everything I've earned by being locked up in this sterile dungeon.

As it turned out my visitor was Lil Arturo. He was sitting in a padded chair too large for his diminutive frame and kicking against a chair leg with the heels of his boots. He looked just as bored as I've felt lately.

"Alright Grubber, you have twenty minutes," Dr. Phillips informed me, her toothy smile looking so fake I wondered if she kept her teeth in a jar at night, "If either of you need anything just press the call buzzer on the wall. Have fun!"

When she left the room I raised a middle finger I knew she couldn't see. It just felt good to do, even if I couldn't offend her with it. Arturo chuckled and then gestured to the chair across from his. It felt nice to see someone normal for a change. I'm getting rather sick of doctors.

"So Grubber, how you holding up, ese?" Arturo asked.

"Pfft pfft pbt prfft," I replied without holding back.

"Ooh, that bad, eh? Hey, at least when this is over you can jack the computer and sell it," Arturo pointed out, "Speaking of money, when you gettin' paid?"

"Pfft," I replied.

"That long? Man, this woulda gone faster if we just kept stealing from toddlers," Arturo lamented.

"Pfft?" I asked.

"Oh, everybody's doing okay," Arturo shrugged noncommittally, "Ace got a job."

Okay, now _that_ one threw me.

"Pfft?!" I parroted incredulously.

"Yeah dude, a real job," Arturo replied, seeming a little embarrassed, "The Powerpuffs are everywhere, so mugging people's getting a lot harder. Ace is working at the Jester Burger as a fry cook. As soon as he makes cashier he's gonna steal the money from the register and run, but that could take weeks. We just tryin' to get enough for a new shack."

"Pfft pbt?" I inquired.

"Oh, well right now we're sleeping under the Townsville bridge," Arturo replied.

I couldn't help but cringe a little when he said that. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the fetid stench of bridge hobo as much as the next person, but next week it's supposed to be days of nothing but thunderstorms. The gang was definitely going to get wet, and would also most likely get sick. This isn't fair! I have a nice dry place to sleep and they don't? I hate this lab, and after this experiment is over I might just burn it all to the ground. I just hope no one reads this before I have a chance to enact my cruel vengeance. Then I would get arrested. At the time I thought this however, that stray bit of reasoning made me realize something...

"Pfft pft?" I asked Arturo.

"We considered it," Arturo once again shrugged, "Getting arrested would mean sleeping indoors, but last time our cell mate was Fuzzy Lumpkins. He claimed every cot. Every. Cot. That guy is seriously loco."

I laughed of course, remember the pink furry hillbilly all too well. Townsville had some strange criminals, but their odd gimmicks didn't make them any less dangerous. I mean sure, Mojo Jojo is known for his intellect, but people tend to forget that he's also a chimpanzee; an animal known for being able to rip a man's face and family jewels right off his body. No way would I mess with that kind of raw angry energy.

"So anyway Grubber, what's the story with that hot chica that came in a minute ago?" Arturo asked suggestively.

Dr. Phillips? Oh, that poor naive soul. He actually thought Dr. Phillips was attractive! She has all the personality of Blarney the Sea Serpent and smells like a burning rose bush. Yeah, _real_ classy!

"Pfft pft pbt pfft!" I laughed, unable to help myself.

"Seriously? You didn't even try to put the moves on her?" Arturo asked in disbelief, "Dude, she's muy caliente, and you're alone with her for the next three months! I mean sure you ain't exactly a prince, but you got frog appeal."

I scowled, and Arturo laughed even harder. I then threw a pillow at his head, which he ducked, and then he leapt off the chair and grabbed the cushion; which was promptly thrown in my direction.

Before either of us realized what we were doing we were knee deep in a pillow fight, and we were pounding each other with chair cushions all the while breaking every breakable object in the room. That was the most fun I've had since coming here, but of course the good times couldn't last.

I still remember when Dr. Phillips came in to tell me our time was up, and the look of shock she had on her face when she saw the mess we had made. She looked like a bass that had been brought onto dry land, with those bugged-out eyes and mouth opening and closing for air. I desperately wish I could afford a phone, so that I could have taken a picture of her aghast expression.

"Wha...what...what happened here?" Dr. Phillips asked; dumbfounded.

"Uh...gotta go!" Arturo quickly said before running out the door in a cloud of dust.

That left me alone with the sugar plum fairy. I just stared up at her, my bulging eyes only slightly more pronounced than her own. I felt so small as I looked up at her tall bombshell frame blocking the doorway. How the heck did Arturo mange to get out the door with her blocking it?

"Grubber...go to your room please," Dr. Phillips said in a shuddered breath; her voice quiet and polite despite the circumstances, "We'll talk about this later."

I complied, wanting to stop by the vending machine for a snack anyway. When I got to my room I pulled out a book to pass the time waiting for her to barge in. I selected Moby Dick, and was halfway through chapter three when Dr. Phillips finally showed up.

She gave me a standard yet civil talk about respecting other people's property, showing proper decorum, blah blah blah. Who does she think I am? I'm Gangreen, baby! 'Respect' and 'decorum' don't fit in our vocabulary. No one's ever respected us, so why should we be respectful? Everything we get is eventually taken from us, so why not take stuff in return? If we don't take, then we don't get. Simple as that.

I would have expressed this to Dr. Phillips, but it didn't seem to be worth my time. So I nodded, smiled, and occasionally cursed her out in raspberry without her knowledge while she smiled at me like a simpering fool. She thinks she can break me, but nothing will break me. I will endure the clinical trial, get my paycheck, and rejoin my gang in our newly built dream shack.

Grubber J. Gribberish


End file.
